


The Quiet Words No One Else Can Hear

by eyesofshinigami



Series: The Birthday Collective [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Blow Jobs, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Hand Jobs, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Not quite PWP, Praise Kink, Schmoop, but close
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26513680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyesofshinigami/pseuds/eyesofshinigami
Summary: Geralt is a private man, who tends to keep things to himself and doesn't like to be public with his affection. Other people don't seem to understand that, and they question his relationship with Jaskier.But Jaskier knows the truth, and that's all they need
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Birthday Collective [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1910632
Comments: 40
Kudos: 296





	The Quiet Words No One Else Can Hear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GoldenDaydreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY GOLDIE!! You are an amazing friend and an amazing writer, so I hope you like this!
> 
> Beta-ed by the always lovely stfustucky on short notice. I appreciate you!

Geralt knows what people say about him. He hears the words whispered behind hands, snide comments spat when he walks away. They forget that he’s a Witcher, and that means that he catches everything they say, even the things they think they’ve muttered low enough. 

It doesn’t bother him. 

What _does_ bother him is when people start whispering about Jaskier and their relationship. People have always made assumptions about the two of them, and Jaskier never bothers to correct anyone. Among their friends and family, they know that he and Jaskier are lovers, have been for years. He doesn’t particularly care what random folks in villages or towns think, but it stings when it’s someone close to them. 

“Geralt, how come you never hold Jaskier’s hand?” Ciri asks one night. They’re holed up in a tavern, the weather too harsh for them to camp. Jaskier’s performing, swanning about the meager crowd and enchanting their coin from their purses, for which Geralt is rather thankful for. She frowns at him over a spoon full of thick soup and Geralt isn’t sure how to answer her. “I mean, I’ve seen other couples hold hands before, and you two are pretty much married, so-”

“Witchers don’t hold hands,” he forces out, not looking at her. He grits his teeth and shoves another chunk of bread in his mouth. 

Ciri sniffs and finishes her bite before she says primly, “There are a lot of things Witchers don’t do, but you do them anyway, so I don’t understand why this is different.” He can hear the judgement in her tone, but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, especially not in the middle of a tavern. “I just think it would make him so happy if you were a bit more affectionate in public.” 

He doesn’t answer, and before the conversation can spiral any further, Jaskier appears and flops down onto the bench next to Geralt. “Well, not our best showing, but I think I’ve at least covered the cost of our food and board!” He swipes Geralt’s cup of ale and takes a long swallow. For once, Geralt doesn’t grumble at him. The bard has more than earned it, between the coin and saving him from the conversation with Ciri. Their legs press together under the table and Geralt fights back a smile. 

He tries not to think about it, until it comes up _again._

They run into Yennefer in a tavern in Kaedwen. She looks beautiful and devastating, but Geralt doesn’t feel compelled to hop into the first bed he sees with her. It’s the first time he’s seen her since the disastrous day on the mountain, and he stumbles through an awkward apology. Yennefer is kind enough to stop him and focuses instead on Ciri. The two get on like a house on fire, which should be worrying, but Geralt finds that it actually loosens something inside his chest. He’ll have to talk to Yen later about helping control Ciri’s Chaos, but tonight, he’s just enjoying that there’s no fuss or fighting. 

Jaskier is talking to the barmaid, flirting outrageously but without any intent behind the words other than perhaps securing them a discount on dinner. The woman touches his arm and Jaskier leans into it, but keeps the majority of his body bent away. 

“Looks like your pretty flower might be securing his own entertainment for this evening,” Yennefer says with a pointed smile. “I can’t say that I blame him, considering he probably won’t have to paw at her for scraps of attention, judging by the look in her eyes.”

Geralt’s jaw ticks and he takes a deep breath through his nose. She wants him to rise to the bait, he knows, but he also can hear what she _isn’t_ saying. He knows that she and Jaskier had met up a few times in the interim between that awful day on the mountain and their chance meeting here, but his relationship with his bard is none of her business. “Only if he plans on paying for another room,” he replies with a grunt. 

Ciri makes an outraged noise from beside Yennefer. “Jaskier wouldn’t do that! He and Geralt are in love!” 

Yennefer taps two of her perfect nails against the tabletop. “Oh? And did _Geralt_ tell you that, my sweet?” she asks, though her eyes never leave Geralt’s. His gloves squeak from where the leather is balled into a tight fist at his side. 

He’s about to ask what Yen hopes to accomplish by punishing him like this, but Ciri dutifully answers, “Well, no, but Jaskier writes all those lovely songs about Geralt, and they travel together, and he always gives Jaskier the best parts of the rabbits he roasts.” She keeps going, but Geralt tunes her out as his ears start to burn a little. 

Yennefer listens, nodding along, but looks Geralt square in the eyes as she speaks, words poisonously sweet, “Well, I suppose that counts for _something._ ” 

The food comes and Jaskier starts chatting with Yennefer about something trivial, and the conversation moves away from how he treats Jaskier. It makes his insides twist, the words sticking in his brain like a thorn in the side. He barely touches his food, even though Jaskier and Ciri both keep insisting. 

The conversation follows him up the stairs and into the room he’s sharing with Jaskier, who immediately cottons that something is wrong. “All right, love, out with it. What’s bothering you?” he asks gently as he sheds his clothes. Geralt absent-mindedly casts an Igni to warm the bath water back up, sighing when he hears Jaskier’s noise of pleasure. “Is it Yennefer?”

“Not in the way you think,” Geralt replies as he moves towards the tub. He sheds his own clothes and climbs in across from Jaskier, grabbing his foot and starting to rub. He feels the heat pool in his belly at the sweet little noises Jaskier makes as the muscles give under his touch. “She and Ciri both seem to think that I’m not… I don’t treat you well.” 

“Well, they’re both incredibly wrong.” Jaskier makes a sweeping gesture with his arm, towards where Geralt is currently digging his thumbs into the muscles of his calves. “You are a man of action, my love, I have always known this. You’re rubbing my feet, you’ll let me wash you and then return the favor, and then you’ll make love to me in a godforsaken inn bed because it’s been too long.” 

The words warm Geralt’s insides in a completely different way and he ducks his head. “Does it bother you? That I don’t hold your hand when we’re in a village, or that I won’t let you kiss me when we’re in a crowded street?” he can’t help but ask.

Jaskier tugs his foot out of Geralt’s grip and moves closer, the water sloshing out the rim of the tub as he’s practically seated in the witcher’s lap. He slots their hands together and then leans up to kiss him. It’s sweet, and deep, and Geralt feels it all the way down his spine. When they break apart, Jaskier whispers against his lips, “No, because you more than make up for it when we’re alone. I can’t say I mind being the only person who gets to see you like this, gets to hear the words you whisper when we’re alone and under the cover of darkness.”

Geralt doesn’t give him any warning before he hefts him up out of the tub, not caring that they’re dripping water all over the floor and onto the sheets. He spreads Jaskier out on the bed and kisses him as thoroughly as he can, running his hands along wet skin. Jaskier makes soft little noises against his mouth and Geralt can smell the spicy-sweet scent of his arousal on his skin. “I love the way you feel against me,” he whispers against Jaskier’s cheek. One hand keeps Jaskier’s wrists pinned above his head, the other slides down the bard’s belly to cup his slowly thickening cock in his hand. “I love the way you smell, the sweet little noises you make just for me.” 

Jaskier whimpers and pushes up into his hand, and Geralt can’t deny him anything. He starts to stroke, slow and tight, licking his lips as he tastes the spike in Jaskier’s scent on his tongue. “I love the way your lips taste, I love how you feel against me.” He speaks the words into Jaskier’s skin, smearing them along his jaw in between nips and licks that make the bard writhe beneath him. Jaskier is beautiful like this, panting and squirming on the bed as he fucks the circle of Geralt’s fist. 

He’s never been good with words, they both know this. Most of the time he keeps them clenched tight behind his teeth and stuffed down in his chest, but right now, it feels good to let them out. It’s just the two of them, and Jaskier will keep his secrets safe. 

“Geralt, please, more,” Jaskier pleads, bucking up against him. His cock is blood-hot and flexing in his grip, and Geralt can smell just how close Jaskier is to coming. Geralt speeds up his strokes, but Jaskier shakes his head and cries out again. “No, more. Tell me more, please.” 

Geralt smiles against his neck. He slows the pumps of his fist back to the leisurely pace of before, which makes Jaskier moan sweetly as he fucks up into it. “You look so beautiful like this, taking your pleasure. The way you smell, the way your skin tastes…” He punctuates it with a drag of his tongue against the skin of Jaskier’s neck, tasting the salt of his sweat and the sweeter taste of Jaskier’s arousal. 

Jaskier cries out, soft little groans filling the air as Geralt keeps talking, pressing soft words into his skin over and over. He’s used the same mouth to hurt Jaskier in the past, but now, he makes every single effort to cover them with how much he adores the man beneath him. “I love hearing you sing, I love the way you love our cub, I love the way you make my life brighter just by being at my side.” 

He feels the moment Jaskier comes, feels his cock kick in his grip and soon his fist is covered in hot, sticky spend. He lets Jaskier fuck his fist through the aftershocks, until he rolls his hips to a stop and catches his breath. Geralt wastes no time lifting his hand to his mouth and licking it clean, moaning at the taste of Jaskier’s pleasure on his tongue. His own cock is hard and leaking between his thighs, but before he can take himself in hand, Jaskier is up like a shot and Geralt finds himself on his back.

His bard wastes no time before he circles the base of his cock with his hand and then swallows Geralt down, the tip of his cock bumping at the back of his throat. He lets out his own low growl of pleasure as Jaskier sucks him, obscene slurps and drags of his tongue along the underside. He strokes what little of him he can’t fit in his mouth, and Geralt can feel the pleasure coiling in his belly. 

“Fuck, Jaskier, I love your mouth, how well you take me, how good you--fuck!” he cuts himself off as Jaskier gives him a particularly hard suck that makes his hips come off the bed. His blue eyes sparkle as he keeps bobbing up and down, clearly not in the mood to tease. Jaskier sucks cock like a professional, especially when he sets his mind to making Geralt come as quickly as he can. 

He bites down on a moan as the warmth in his belly burns hotter, his orgasm curling at the base of his spine as Jaskier pulls him over with a shout. His cock flexes as he spills, but Jaskier greedily drinks down everything he has to give. He sucks and sucks until Geralt pushes him away, his cock sensitive from all the stimulation. 

Jaskier surges up and kisses him with such fervor that they almost fall off the bed. He licks the taste of his own come out of Jaskier’s mouth, running his hands along his sides as they bask in the afterglow. Jaskier likes to kiss and cuddle and touch, and Geralt has learned that he does too. 

When Jaskier pulls back, his eyes are bright and his lips are swollen red. It’s a good look on him. “We’ve ruined the bed,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

Geralt shrugs, fighting back a yawn. “I don’t care, do you?” He keeps Jaskier still as he scoots down the bed so that he’s on his back, his bard sprawled atop him like a favorite quilt. They need to clean up, probably have another bath, but he can’t bring himself to disturb the rounded edges of the moment they’re in. 

“Geralt… I meant what I said earlier. I know you love me, and I don’t need public declarations or outward affection in front of others to know it. I don’t mind that it’s something we keep here, between us, where it’s safe and guarded,” Jaskier murmurs after a moment, fingers casually tracing the scars on his chest. 

The knot in his chest starts to unwind, and his muscles melt into the wet, scratchy sheets beneath his body. “I do, though. I do love you. So much that sometimes I feel like I forget to breathe with it.” 

Jaskier shudders in his arms and the scent of warm honey and sweet grass fills his nose. “And I love you, and that’s all we really need.” He yawns and grabs the comforter that is thankfully still dry to pull over them both. He’s a warm, sleepy weight on Geralt’s chest. 

As long as Jaskier is happy, then Geralt is happy. He doesn’t care about the things that people say about him, and he’s learning that he doesn’t need to worry about what they think of him and Jaskier, either. They both _know_ , here in the quiet of their shared room, and that’s all they need.

-End-

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Loved it? Drop me a comment or come let me know over on Tumblr or Discord!
> 
> Tumblr || eyesofshinigami  
> Discord || #eyesofshinigami0707


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